Le Quattro Stagioni: The Four Seasons
by Amie C. Hicks
Summary: A collection of deliciously fluffy goodness that follows Mary and Bert through their relationship from 1905 till 1920. They meet, they fall in love... anything can happen!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello! This is my first fic ever, so please be gentle. I will appreciate any and all constructive criticism, and I thank you in advance. This collection of extreme fluff came about while I was listening to Vivaldi's concertos The Four Seasons. I figured, "hey, this could work..." and thus it came to be. It's a mix of all three Mary Poppins entities, with bits and pieces from the original books, the classic movie, and the utterly fantastic musical. I hope it flows as well as I imagined it in my head, hahaha. ****This fic chronicles the relationship of our favourite couple, Mary Poppins and Herbert Alfred, over a fifteen-year period, with each chapter taking place during one of the four seasons. It was a pleasure to write, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.**

**- ACH**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Boo.**

**This is dedicated to my dear friend and inspiration, without whom my life, I'm sure, would be a ghastly mess. :P**

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La primavera

_1905 London_

There is something exceptionally magical about spring. Winter's icy grasp is finally loosened and the land begins to breathe again. The biting, harsh winds diminish, and gentle rolling breezes take their place. Colour returns to London as the hazy shades of winter heave their last breaths and fade. What Bert loved especially, however, was how the last of the glistening snow would melt and the first flowers of the season could determinedly poke their stems up from the thawed ground. They never failed to come, and for him they were yearly reminders that even though one may face the toughest of times, one will always pull through in the end. This winter had been particularly difficult for business; no one really has their chimney swept once the chill envelops the city, after all. Bert was hoping to make up for it by taking on a few more odd jobs this spring. He was never downtrodden, though. He enjoyed working with his hands, and he had all the time in the world. What were a couple new skills to learn? He whistled happily in the late morning sun, gradually making his way to one of the more popular areas of the park. Today Bert was a screever, and he had some wonderfully charming ideas in mind to bring to life with his brightly coloured chalk.

He sauntered leisurely through the park, hands in his pockets, watching the people he passed with great interest. There were children chasing one another, filled with delight that they could finally come outside to play again. Governesses were pushing prams ahead of them, the babies within barely visible beneath their soft, comfortable blankets. A group of teenage boys were fighting over a kite, while a cluster of girls about the same age stood a few feet away, looking on and giggling behind their hands. He sighed contentedly as he walked, remembering when he had been their age. _Time certainly flies, doesn't it? _He mused. He'd grown from being a somewhat lanky young boy into an exceedingly attractive man. He'd always been a rather handsome gentleman; with striking features and warm brown eyes, so, naturally, he was quite popular with the ladies, despite his less than impressive class status. He hadn't found the right woman for him just yet, though. He still had plenty of time; there was no rush. _No rush at all_, he thought with a smile.

Upon reaching his preferred spot, he set down his small bag of chalk and kneeled on the pavement. He gazed astutely at his surroundings: the newly green trees swaying in the light breeze; a neat patch of lovely rose bushes lining the path, the buds barely beginning to open; the statue of a boy holding his dolphin companion in a close embrace. He finished surveying the scenery, making sure he didn't miss an ounce of inspiration. Satisfied that he had not, Bert began to materialise his imagination and draw.

The afternoon trickled away slowly. People passed him by, some more curious than others, stopping to take a gander at his work and, occasionally, to leave a penny or two in his hat. By the time the sun had passed its zenith, he had drawn a fine array of pictures. One was of peaceful, sun-drenched shores with large palm trees growing at odd angles; another was of a shady forest with golden beams of light filtering through the tree branches that gave off a faint otherworldly feel. Another of his chalk drawings depicted a traditional British castle that was so realistic and detailed it was almost as if King Arthur and his Knights would ride straight out of it and into the London streets. His fourth picture portrayed a majestic tiger and her cubs, pouncing on a snow-covered mountain slope. He looked on them with pride as he made small adjustments here and there with a loving, attentive hand. _Some of my best work, if I do say so m'self, _he thought with a pleased smile. Packing up his now worn chalk, he relocated to a nearby bench to sit and relax. He counted the coins in his hat and his smile dipped a little. Not as much as he would have liked, but it was a start. _You can always make more money_, he thought. _But there will never be another day the same as this. _He stretched his legs and leaned back into the bench, his everlasting optimism back to full strength and his smile as luminous as it was before. He watched as a chirping robin flew back and forth overhead, collecting twigs and pieces of grass with which to make his nest. _Just like me_, he thought, _whistlin' while he works. That's the only way to do it, that is. _His gaze wandered across the park to the cherry trees that were soon to be bursting with bright pink and magenta blossoms. _I'll have to come back and draw them once they bloom_, he thought. _They're sure to be remarkably beautiful after such a brutal winter._ His eyes left the trees and found the teenagers with the kite once more. They were having a great deal of trouble trying to keep it in the air. His interest piqued, he watched as they rolled the long string back up for another attempt. One boy held on to the yellow kite, its red ribbon tail flitting around in the breeze, while another boy readied the string for the kite's ascent. A sudden gust of wind blew the kite and the boy let go, and it quickly rose into the sky, soaring above their heads while they shouted in excitement and happiness. _It seems the wind is on their side, _Bert mused laughingly. He took a deep breath of the new spring air, and slowly released it. He noticed that the air felt slightly different than it did before. He didn't exactly know how to explain it, but there was something unusual about it; it was a subtle change: cooler, fresher. He attributed it to the coming of the season and shrugged it off. _Just me and my overactive imagination at work_, he thought with a smile. He allowed his eyes to linger on the boys with the kite for a little while longer, and then unhurriedly shifted his gaze to the nearby rose bushes. For a fleeting moment he felt as though time had stopped; he had never before in his life seen a woman more beautiful than she who was leaning over the budding roses.

Her dark brown hair was swept into a tight bun on the back of her head with a few stray wisps playing about her ears. She wore a form-fitting royal purple coat with black pockets and cuffs over a black skirt that just barely covered her ankles, and black boots that shone in the afternoon sunlight. A black hat adorned with daisies sat primly atop her head, and she carried a rather odd carpetbag and a green parrot-headed umbrella in her black gloved hands. The woman set her bag and umbrella down beside her as she sat on a bench not far from the one Bert was occupying. Bert realised he was staring, and he averted his eyes, hoping she hadn't seen him with his mouth agape ogling her. He had been coming to this exact spot in the park for years now, and he had never seen her here before. She was a breath of fresh air, and he surreptitiously watched her out of the corner of his eye as she gazed upon the statue of the boy and the dolphin, and, to Bert's surprise, winked at it. He looked at the statue now, thinking somebody else must have been beside it to warrant the action, but there was no one present. He confusedly looked at the stone boy, and if he hadn't known better, he would have sworn it winked back at her. _My imagination must be really active today_, he thought. _My mind must be playing tricks on me. _He secretly glanced back over at the mysterious woman, who had pulled a rather large book out of her bag and had flipped to a page in the middle and begun reading. Ever the artist, Bert memorised her face and her hands, and the way her skirt draped across her daintily crossed legs. He took his sketchpad and charcoal from his own bag and, with painstaking care, began to draw her. He had not had such a lovely subject for as long as he could remember, and he was inspired.

The two sat that way for quite a while; she silently reading, and he sketching away on the cream-coloured paper. Finally, she closed her book on a sigh, and returned it to the recesses of her carpetbag. She delicately pulled off her black lace gloves and placed them in her bag, as well. He clandestinely looked at her again, and saw that she was gazing with a smile at the rosebuds. She tenderly held one in her hand and, to Bert's utter amazement, it unfolded at her touch. He noted she didn't look surprised at all; in fact, she looked quite pleased with herself. Her smile grew and reached her stunning blue eyes as the rest of the buds on the rose bush bloomed, and soon it was covered with vivid, deep red flowers, and the heady scent of the roses was carried on the breeze over to Bert. He breathed in their aroma and smiled to himself. _This woman is one of a kind, make no mistake_, he thought. He had a sudden idea of how to properly meet her, and he hoped that she would come again to this place in the park tomorrow. In his mind, he bade the mystifying, beautiful woman a silent farewell and left the park, walking through the dark, meandering streets to his modest home in the heart of London.

***

Night had fallen and a hush descended upon the city. Sleep would not come, and Bert could not get that woman off his mind, so he went to his favourite spot to think. One wouldn't normally believe the rooftops of London to be a comfortable, or even safe, abode, but Bert knew otherwise. _Only a sweep could truly appreciate the beauty and peace of the rooftops, _he thought. He leaned against a chimney and looked up into the cloudy sky. The stars were desperately trying to peek through, and every so often he would get a glimpse of their brilliant light. He had brought his sketchpad with him, and he glanced at the portrait he had drawn of the extraordinary woman in the park. It was an exquisite sketch, but it was still lacking a certain spark; that vitality she seemed to carry with her in her eyes and cheeks. _Who is she? _Bert wondered. _Where did she come from? Why have I never seen her before? _Hundreds of questions raced through his head, not the least of which was whether or not he had been dreaming, or if she had really done what he saw her do; whether by sleight of hand, or by some other unknown force, he did not know. He was determined to figure her out, assuming he ever saw her again, of course. He became frustrated at that thought. He simply had to see her again. Something in her presence had struck a chord within him, and he didn't want to let that go.

His mind wandered back to the stars as did his earnest gaze. He wondered where she was at that very moment, and what she was doing, and if she were looking up into the same clouded sky. The wind blew a few of the clouds away and opened the sky just enough that the stars could fully shine down on him. He smiled and yawned; his exhaustion finally catching up with him after the excitement of the day. He wished the stars goodnight, lightheartedly saluted to Big Ben, and deftly climbed down from the rooftops. Bert did not have to concentrate on the footholds and railings anymore; he had followed this route enough times to know it by heart. What Bert didn't know, however, was that if he had been paying attention, he would have observed, peering at him from behind a chimney, the deep blue eyes of the very woman he could not shake from his thoughts.

***

The following morning, Bert awoke bright and early in order to begin his work. He slung his bag of chalk over his shoulder and quickly made his way through the early morning fog toward the park. It was practically empty at this hour; the birds were quiet and very few people were strolling about. The only sounds were the wind rustling the leaves and the soft clap of his shoes against the pavement. Upon arriving at the location of his previous drawings, he tossed his bag on the ground and knelt beside it. He drew from memory; the instant of her nurturing that rose had fastened to his mind, and he wanted to recreate it for everyone, though above all for her, to see. He worked meticulously, not wanting to miss even the slightest nuance. The image poured from his mind onto the pavement, and soon he was looking at her chalk likeness. He slowly got up and brushed the colourful powder from his hands and his black jacket and trousers. He looked upon it and beamed, putting away his chalk. _Now this is m'best work, _he thought. _No doubt about that. _Bert had been so immersed in his effort that he hadn't realised that the normal boisterous activity of the park had begun. People were out and about as usual, and Bert had nothing left to do but wait, so he returned to the same bench from the preceding day to participate in one of his favourite pastimes of people-watching. One can learn a lot about a person by observing them, Bert knew, and he would be keeping a vigilant eye out for the particular woman whose portrait now graced the sidewalk.

Time passed slowly; the soft morning glow had turned into the strong rays of the early afternoon, and Bert remained on the bench waiting. He had received comments (and a few pence, to be fair) from multiple people praising his work, but none of them really mattered to him. He wanted to hear only one person's thoughts and, so far, she had not appeared as he'd hoped she would. He tore his gaze from a mother and her little girl to look at the statue of the boy and his dolphin friend. Bert was half inclined to ask the marble boy where exactly the woman was, but he stopped himself before he could rise. _Silly thing, really, _he thought, _talking to a statue. It would be a rather one-sided conversation. _He chuckled at the idea of him carrying on a discussion with a park statue. _I may just be losing my mind_, he had luckily remembered to bring his sketchpad along, so he retrieved it from his bag and started to draw a pair of robins that were perched in a nearby tree. He was soon engrossed in his drawing, and he didn't notice when the woman entered the park from behind a grove of trees. She ambled down the path, umbrella tucked securely under her arm, smoothing out her coat with one hand as she simultaneously checked her makeup with a compact in the other. She seemed to know exactly where she was going, seeing as how she wasn't looking ahead or paying much attention at all to her surroundings. Bert arbitrarily glanced up from his drawing and immediately saw her, and his breath caught in his throat. She had exchanged her purple coat from the other day for a slightly shorter, brilliant blue one that matched her eyes. Her skirt was also blue, and her black gloves were now white, but everything else, from the tips of her laced up boots to tight bun of her hair, remained the same. If it were possible, and if Bert could have spoken at that moment, he'd have said that she looked even more radiant this day than she had the day before. He watched her absorbedly as she neared his drawing, all the while trying to ignore the butterflies that had suddenly begun flying about in the pit of his stomach. The woman approached the picture and stopped. She looked down upon it and a smile lit up her face. She blushed slightly, and looked over at the bench Bert was sitting on. He was now pretending not to pay heed to her, but was failing miserably, as he kept moving his eyes to hers. He rose from his seat, politely tipped his hat and, as calmly as he could, moved toward her.

"Did you draw this?" She asked him.

He almost lost his train of thought at the sound of her voice. He was expecting it to be beautiful, but not as melodious and full of life as it was.

"Yes, I did," he managed to choke out. He mentally kicked himself for his idiocy. She seemed not to notice, or if she did, she didn't care, and she continued to gaze at his portrait of her with admiration.

"It's gorgeous work, truly it is," she commended him, and he beamed with cheerfulness and relief. She then shifted her gaze to meet his, and her eyes sparkled with recognition. "Ah, yes! You're the man who kept staring at me yesterday afternoon," she said with a teasing smile.

Bert's face turned as red as the scarf tied around his neck. He frantically tried to explain and apologise in an attempt to save himself from complete mortification, but she quieted him with a laugh.

"It's quite alright, no need to become flustered," she smiled. "I didn't mind."

That eased Bert's now troubled brain only slightly, and he apologised profusely again.

"Honestly, it's fine," she assured him. "You have nothing to worry about, Mr…"

"Oh, yes, sorry. Herbert. Herbert Alfred." He extended a hand for her to take, and she did amiably.

"I am delighted to meet you Mr. Alfred," she smiled and shook his hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, as well," he said. "And please, call me Bert."

She grinned at his request. "And you may call me Mary Poppins," she laughed.

"Mary Poppins? That's a lovely name."

"Thank you, I've always liked it." She looked down at their still joined hands with a mysterious glint in her eye. "This will bring me luck, won't it? You are a sweep, are you not?"

Baffled, he nodded in the affirmative as they released each other's hands. "How'd you know that?"

Her eyes shone mischievously as she responded. "I have definitely seen you around before, though you may not have seen me."

Bert looked at her in wonder and tugged on the hems of the red vest he wore underneath his jacket. "I would remember if I had seen you on the rooftops," he said, a blush creeping into his cheeks.

"You flatter me too much, Bert," she laughed, patting her dark hair. She took a quick, furtive look around and, satisfied that no one was watching, she gracefully reached her hand past the very solid boundary of the pavement and into his chalk picture, and pulled out a living red rose, as if she had just as easily plucked it from one of the nearby bushes. "Thank you," she whispered as she handed the flower to him. With a last smile and glance, she turned on her heel and left as swiftly as she had come.

"Will I see you again?" Bert called after her.

She stopped for a moment and spun to face him. Her eyes still held that incandescent light and her smile grew tenfold.

"Anything can happen!" She answered. And with that, she turned again, and with a flourish of her skirts, she was briskly on her way out of the park.

Bert watched her until she completely faded from his sight. He stood in place staring at the rose in his hand, in complete shock and awe. _Mary Poppins, _he thought. He liked the way her name flowed, _sort of like the way she moves, _he realised. Repeating her name in his head, he grabbed his bag off the bench and joyfully whistled as he returned to his apartment. He danced half the way home; shaking hands with every person he met, so as to spread his apparent wonderful luck. He couldn't recall a time when he had been happier, and never before had he such reason for joviality. He carefully stroked the silky petals of the rose with his thumb, and his smile became wider than ever, because he knew his life was about to become a little brighter, a little better, and, he laughed in exhilaration, a little magical.


	2. Chapter 2

L'inverno

_1910 London_

A fire crackled in the grate as Jane and Michael Banks paced back and forth across the nursery. They had done nothing but clean the house all day, and they were beginning to wonder if Mary Poppins was ever going to let them do anything exciting. The mid-afternoon sun streamed through the windows, and they gazed longingly outside at the snow-covered park. It sparkled in the sunlight, and they had to avert their eyes for a moment to allow them to adjust. Mary chose that instant to enter the room, carrying their winter coats and boots.

"Jane, Michael, come here, please," she said. "We are going to the park. Put on your things. Spit spot!"

They eagerly grabbed their coats and hurried into them while stuffing their feet into their boots.

"Oh, Mary Poppins, what are we going to do today?" Jane asked enthusiastically.

"If you would just be patient, you would find out soon enough," Mary replied.

Jane accepted the response as all she was going to get and fell silent. Mary was wearing her bright red coat and black laced boots, with her customary hat atop her head, and white gloves covering her hands. Once they were ready, after a quick glance at herself in the mirror, she ushered the children out of the nursery, snapping before the door closed, turning the lights off. In no time Jane and Michael were skipping down Cherry Tree Lane toward the park, Mary Poppins keeping a diligent eye on them. They entered through the gate and continued walking down the snowy path, Mary now in the lead, with Jane and Michael lagging behind. She quickened her step, and the children had to jog to keep up with her.

"What are we doing, Mary Poppins?" asked Michael.

"Curiosity killed the cat," she replied tersely without turning around.

Michael exchanged a knowing glance with his sister. They knew she had something in mind. She never gave anything away, and they had gotten used to that long ago. They picked up their pace and followed close behind her, not wanting to miss anything she might do. Further down the path, they saw a tall man dressed in a large, warm black coat, and an orange scarf tied around his neck. Bert was cheerfully whistling with his hands behind his back, and when he spotted Mary and the children, he smiled at them pleasantly. He sauntered up to them, a mischievous glint in his eyes that was not lost on Mary. She looked at him, one eyebrow raised, silently questioning him as to what exactly he had planned. He returned her gaze and smiled innocently; she still hadn't seen the rather large snowball he was concealing behind his back.

"How are you today, Jane? Michael?" Bert asked them.

"Fine, thank you," said Jane politely.

"A little bored," Michael murmured, which prompted a stern glare from Mary, and a slight blush crept into his cheeks.

"Bored? There's plenty to do!" He paused and looked at the children. "You know, all that it takes is a spark," Bert glanced at Mary and she looked at him with wide eyes, "and something plain as a park," he slowly brought out the snowball he'd been hiding, "becomes a Winter Wonderland!" Bert threw the snowball and it hit Michael square in the face. He cried out in delight and wiped the snow out of his eyes. Jane and Michael quickly joined forces against Bert and started frantically forming snowballs in their mitten-covered hands. Snowy projectiles were soon whizzing back and forth and the sound of laughter filled the air, while a very indignant Mary stood ignored on the path, impatiently tapping her foot against the snow, hands on her hips.

"Mary Poppins, won't you join us?" Jane asked hopefully.

She sniffed incredulously. "Join you? Of course not. A respectable person like me in a snow fight?'' Her arms crossed irately across her chest. "Honestly."

Jane shrugged. Why she had asked in the first place, she wasn't sure, since she had known quite well what the answer was going to be. She rejoined her brother, who was now covered in snow, and they resumed their good-humoured attack on Bert. Suddenly a stray snowball hurtled past Mary, just mere inches from her face. Her glare intensified and she'd had enough.

"Will you quite finish?" she practically shouted.

Bert, Jane, and Michael stopped what they were doing, arms in mid-throw, and looked over at her, snow drifting off of their hats and coats. The children embarrassedly shook the snow from their clothing and walked over to their nanny, heads drooped and cheeks red; they knew when she had that particular look in her eyes, she meant business.

"Sorry, Mary Poppins," they said quietly. "We won't do it again."

"You won't do it again is right," she admonished firmly. Her voice then softened considerably as she swept a piece of snow out of Jane's hair. "Really, children, be respectful, especially today. You do know what day it is, do you not?" Jane and Michael exchanged confused glances and looked back up to Mary.

"Friday?" Michael asked.

"It's the twenty-third of December," said Jane.

"Why, it's the Winter Solstice!" exclaimed Bert, who had met them on the path, adjusting his hat. "I had plumb forgotten."

"That's correct," said Mary with a small smile. "And now, if you're through behaving like a pack of wild jackals, we must be on our way. We're going to be late."

"Late for what?" Jane and Michael asked in unison.

She turned to look at them and nodded knowingly at Bert, who winked at her in response. After taking a swift examination of the park to ensure no one was watching, she placed a hand on Jane's and Michael's shoulders and Bert linked his arm around one of hers.

"Stay close, now," she said.

The world around them started to change and spin and it looked as though it were zooming past them at incredible speeds. Everything became a blend of colour and nobody could distinguish anything from the stream around them. Slowly, the world came back into focus and there was a great flash of light, and when it dimmed, they saw they were no longer in the park at Cherry Tree Lane.

***

Michael's and Jane's eyes grew wide as they looked around in wonder. The grey leafless trees of the park had disappeared and had been replaced with towering pines and firs covered with a fine layer of sparkling, new snow. White snow-capped mountains rose majestically in the distance, and, if they strained their eyes, the children could just barely discern what seemed to be the flickering of candlelight beyond the large evergreen trees. Despite the ice and snow, they found they did not feel the cold. They looked down and realised that their warm winter clothes had been changed for elegant formal attire. Everything they were wearing was white; Jane's lacy dress ended just below her knee and a gleaming silver ribbon was tied around her waist with a bow at her back. Michael was outfitted in white dress pants and a white dress shirt and coat, with a silver bowtie. They remembered they were not alone when they heard Bert's cheerful voice behind them.

"Mary, you look beautiful! Tip top from top to toe, if I may say so."

"Thank you, Bert," she said with a lovely smile. "And you may."

She truly did look stunning. Her hair remained in a tight bun; however it was dappled with ice crystals that made it glitter in the late afternoon sunlight. Her dress was gorgeous: it was a shining silvery white that cascaded down to the ground in waves. The sleeves stopped at the middle of her forearm and she wore short, white lace gloves. Embroidered silver vines decorated her waist and lower back. Her blue eyes stood out magnificently against the snow, and they sparkled with happiness.

"You look fine, too, Bert," she said affectionately.

He was dashingly handsome in a white tuxedo and silver vest. He wore a silver tie and the lapels of his tailcoat had a light sheen. He smiled at her look of approval.

"Why, thank you, Mary," he beamed. She snapped her fingers, and produced a single white rose that she placed in his buttonhole. He smiled tenderly at her and she returned it blithely with a glint in her eye.

"Mary Poppins?" asked Michael.

She drew her eyes away from Bert. "Yes?"

"Where are we?"

"Well, Michael, it is the Winter Solstice, which means that it's Winter's birthday. This is his party, and we have been graciously invited."

"A party? How lovely!" said Jane.

"Yes, lovely. And if we don't hurry along, we're going to miss it. Spit spot!" The children hastened ahead with gleeful laughter. Mary and Bert followed arm in arm behind them, smiling contentedly. They reached the gap in the pines and were met with the warm glow of hundreds of candles. Jane and Michael each took Mary's and Bert's free hands and the four of them entered the snowy clearing together.

People were everywhere, all dressed in silver and white, either dancing gracefully to the waltz being played in the background, or congregating around the edges talking animatedly. Gold and silver tinsel was wrapped around the trees, and pieces of the glimmering material were floating on the breeze, creating the illusion that the very air was twinkling. Soon after their entrance, a man in a long white robe with a rather odd mustache approached them.

"Welcome to the Snow Ball, Mary Poppins! We've been expecting you," he said, taking her hand and kissing it lightly. She bowed her head to the man and thanked him as he departed to greet other guests. Mary led the children over to one of the many benches that had been set up around the perimeter of the clearing, waving to and greeting nearly all the other guests they passed. Everybody knew her, it seemed.

Mary and Bert stood together beside the bench, still arm in arm, content to observe the gala in silence. The children sat and kicked their feet as they gazed around at the party guests. Much to their surprise, not only were there people present at the party, but also animals; there were polar bears and arctic foxes, elk and moose and snowy owls, white tigers, penguins, and wolves. They were partaking in the conversation with the people and were dancing, too, and Jane and Michael were both thrilled and confused.

"Can they understand them?" Jane asked.

"Can who understand whom?" Mary Poppins responded inattentively.

"Can the people understand what the animals are saying?" Jane reiterated.

"Of course they can."

"But animals don't talk," Michael mumbled.

Mary whipped her head around to stare at him. "As always, you know best," she said with a sniff. "And don't mumble. It's dreadfully unbecoming. I'm sure I never do."

They fell silent and a pair of adorable polar bear cubs approached the bench and nodded in greeting at Mary, and she nodded and smiled in reply.

"Hello, Mary Poppins!" they said simultaneously.

"Hello, Zima. Hello, Talvi. How are the two of you? It's been far too long." Jane and Michael stared on in amazement. They could understand them, too! They listened alertly to Mary's conversation.

"We're great! We were so excited for the party this year!" said Talvi.

"And now that you're here, it's even better!" said Zima.

"Oh, come now. Don't say such things." Mary blushed ever so slightly.

"But it's true!" they said together.

Mary merely smiled and didn't say anything in response. The children took her silence as an opportunity to introduce themselves to her furry friends. The young bears invited Jane and Michael to play with them on the other side of the clearing, and they were near to bursting with excitement.

"Can we go, Mary Poppins?"pleaded Jane.

"Oh, please, Mary Poppins, please?" implored Michael.

She nodded her head yes and they immediately set off running. "Be careful! Don't wander too far!" she called after them. She shook her head in hidden amusement and turned back toward Bert, who had been quietly standing behind her watching the festivities. He looked at her with a cheeky glimmer in his eyes, and a grin crept slowly across his face.

"What?" asked Mary with a smile.

"They were right, you know," Bert said. "Everything's better when you're around."

"Oh, Bert. Not you, too." She blushed scarlet, and glanced down at her feet.

"I mean it," he said as he took her hand in his. She looked up and their eyes connected for a brief, wonderful moment, but she quickly looked away and dropped her hand from his. At that instant, the music stopped and a hush came over the crowd. A large man in a furry white overcoat with silver fasteners stepped onto the podium at the front of the clearing. He had completely white hair and a white beard, but his bright green eyes held an ageless quality that defied his physical appearance. Mary and Bert turned to look at him when he began to speak.

"Welcome, family and friends, to my birthday party. I hope you all have a wonderful time here today, and I wish for all of you a safe and sound season. The first day of winter has begun: let the celebration commence!"

He clapped his hands together as the crowd cheered and a fresh powder snow started to lightly fall. All the guests went back to talking and dancing as the music continued to play.

"He certainly knows how to throw a party," Bert said.

"If you think this is grand, you should go to one of his brother's parties in the summer. I'll have to take you sometime," Mary replied.

"Shouldn't I be the one taking you?" he asked jokingly.

"Normally, I suppose, you would." She tapped him lightly on the nose. "But you, my dear friend, do not have the means to get there." She laughed good-naturedly.

Bert snorted. "You have a point; you are by no stretch of the imagination normal."

She looked at him in disbelief. "I never said I wasn't—" she interrupted herself, "what an impertinent thing to say!"

Bert laughed and again took her hand in his. "When will you learn that you are perfect just the way you are? You don't have to be normal. Who wants ordinary when you can have extraordinary?"

She blushed deeper than she had all evening. "I'm merely practically perfect, Bert. True perfection is impossible, even for me," she whispered.

"Pardon me for disagreeing, but someone very wise once told me that anything can happen," he softly replied.

She glanced up at him, and their eyes connected for the second time that day. They slowly leaned toward one another, and Bert's eyes moved to her lips and then back up to her eyes, as if asking permission to kiss her. They were so close; so incredibly close to discovering their feelings for each other; her heart was fluttering uncontrollably in her chest from both anticipation and fear, and it was at that exact moment when the Old Man Winter chose to check in on his friend, Mary Poppins.

"Hello, there, my dear Mary! How have you been this fine year?" Mary and Bert immediately pulled apart, both blushing profusely, like children getting caught eating mass amounts of sweets before supper. Bert would have silently cursed the man for his downright atrocious timing, but he was half convinced that he would be able to read his mind, so he refrained. Winter seemed completely oblivious to their rather blatant embarrassment, despite the tension being so palpable, one could cut through it with a knife.

"Quite well, thank you," Mary stammered. She smiled in an attempt to cover her loss of composure and to regain her renowned control. "And yourself?"

"Very well. Very well, indeed!" Winter exclaimed. "This season is sure to be a lovely one."

"Good, I'm glad," she said.

Old Man Winter started talking about his plans for the season; when it would snow, if there were to be any blizzards to watch out for. Mary wasn't paying much attention, and instead she was wishing that the awkwardness would dissipate, and that she could magically alleviate the situation. She knew, however, that it didn't work that way, and that this was one of those things magic couldn't solve for her.

"So did you get all that? I wouldn't want you getting caught in one of my darling storms," said Winter, and Mary was pulled out of her thoughts.

"Oh, yes. Every word," she lied with a charming smile. Old Man Winter grinned immensely, and placed a large hand on her shoulder.

"You have a wonderful year, you hear me?" he said.

"I will, thank you," she answered. He gave her shoulder a light squeeze, nodded congenially at Bert, and left the two alone again. He strolled off into the crowd, shaking everyone's hands and chatting light-heartedly, all the while sporting an enormous smile on his bearded face.

"You bold-faced liar," Bert chuckled, once he was out of earshot. "You know, in the five years I've known you, I don't think I've ever heard you lie before."

"Well, it's as I said. Contrary to popular belief, I am not perfect."

"And you don't have to be," he said. Before she could articulate her retort, Bert bowed low to her, and extended his hand with a dramatic flourish. "May I have this dance, m'lady?"

She smiled at his high spirits and took his hand, previous incident temporarily forgotten, and he led her out into the middle of the clearing where a slow waltz was drifting over the air. Mary placed one of her hands on Bert's shoulder, and he in turn placed one of his on the small of her back, while their other hands remained clasped together. Even the mere contact between them made a chill rush down Mary's spine. They moved gracefully together, crossing the clearing multiple times and back again, spinning and stepping in time with the music and each other. Bert marveled at how perfectly she fit in his arms, and he wondered if she was thinking the same thing. He looked into her eyes, and she returned his gaze. What he saw there startled him. He saw excitement, yes, but also an unexpected, intense fear.

"Mary, are you afraid of me?" Bert asked carefully.

"No. I could never be afraid of you, Bert," she replied.

"Then what are you afraid of?" They realised they had stopped dancing, and were standing in the middle of the clearing still holding one another close. Other couples sped past them, paying them no heed. Mary hesitated, and let out a deep breath.

"The unknown. Not being in control." The honesty of her answer took him by surprise. He was so used to her never letting anything on about the inner workings of her mind. Since Mary rarely explained anything, Bert had quickly discovered how to pick up the little things she left for him, the small pieces of herself that she sometimes allowed him to see.

"There are some things that no one can control, Mary Poppins. Even you," he whispered.

"I know," she said. "That's why I ignore them." She gave a frustrated laugh. "Though, I must say, I am having a rather difficult time ignoring this."

"Ignoring what?" he asked softly.

"You know very well what," she answered.

"Care to remind me?" he said with a laugh. She stared at him in annoyance.

"You are so infuriating sometimes, you know that? I try to be serious, and you go on joking as if you were one of the children I care for. Why I love you at all bewilders even me on occasion." Her eyes grew wide and she froze, realising what she had just inadvertently confessed. She covered her face in her hands and her blush became deeper with every passing second. Bert stared at her in shock. _Did she just say what I think she said?_

"You… you love me?" he asked.

"Do you see what I mean? My control is weakening," she said, her extremely perturbed voice muffled by her gloved hands. "And yes, Bert. I love you. Very much so." He took her hands in his and drew them away from her face.

"Would it make you feel any better if I told you that I love you, too?" he asked quietly, looking into her glimmering eyes. He gently brushed a snowflake from her eyelashes, and allowed his hand to graze her cheek on the way back down to his side. She didn't bother trying to hide her complete astonishment at his admission.

"Do you mean it?" she asked, with disbelief and hope echoing in her voice.

"I've never meant anything more in my life," he said sincerely.

"Oh, thank goodness." She completely disregarded all the rules of etiquette she adhered to, and her lips suddenly collided with his. He responded at once, and placed his hands on her hips, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to his, thoroughly enjoying the feelings that were running rampant within her. For both of them it felt as though the floodgates had opened and years of pent up desire and love came surging out of their hearts; unrelenting, uncontrollable, and unbearably powerful. They pulled away regretfully, realising that this was neither the time nor the place to continue. She smiled, gasping for breath, and rested her head against his chest when he pulled her into a tight embrace.

"I will love you forever, Mary Poppins," Bert whispered into her ear.

"And I, you," she replied.

They smiled luminously and grasped one another's hands as they walked from the center of the clearing and back to the bench by the trees. It was early evening and the winter sun had set, the warm glow of the candles now the only thing illuminating the party. Mary and Bert glanced across the clearing and saw Jane and Michael walking slowly back to the bench, with the two polar bears in tow, yawing and stretching out their arms. It had been a very long day, and it was almost time to return home. Mary bade farewell to Zima and Talvi, who each gave her a big bear hug.

"We had a wonderful time, thank you!" Jane said.

"Yes, thank you," agreed Michael.

"You're very welcome! Maybe Mary Poppins will let you see us again sometime," the bears replied.

The children looked at her expectantly, and she stared back at them with an almost distant look in her eye. She seemed to see past this world and into another, and her eyes held an almost melancholic quality, as if she knew something inevitable was soon to happen. Both Jane and Michael had a foreboding feeling in the pits of their stomachs that they recognised, but they could not recall what it meant. They shook it off and smiled at the bears, and gave them both a hug, as well. They smiled brightly and toddled off back across the clearing to mingle with a quartet of energetic, step-dancing penguins.

Jane and Michael looked up sleepily at Mary and clung to her sides in a loving, albeit lethargic, embrace. She smiled down at them, placing her arms around their shoulders gently, as Bert came up behind her and placed a hand on one of hers.

"Time to go home?" he asked.

She nodded in response and gave a final, cursory glance to the Solstice celebration. Making sure everyone was safely beside her, she closed her eyes, and the world around them began to spin once more.

***

A moment later they were in the Banks' nursery; their clothing returned to what it had been before. Bert looked at Mary softly, and she returned his gaze. She knew what he was thinking, and she would oblige him as soon as her dearly loved charges were well taken care of. He understood and, with a wave to the children and a tip of his hat to Mary, he climbed out the nursery window and up onto the rooftops.

Mary quickly assisted Jane and Michael out of their slightly damp winter clothes, the buttons coming undone effortlessly beneath her fingers. They were in their pajamas in no time, and were soon in bed and fast asleep, dreaming of glimmering snow and polar bears. She draped their coats over the screen beside the crackling fire so they could dry, and moved smoothly across the floor back to the other side of the room, retrieving a red knit scarf from her bag. Mary stood in the doorway of her adjoining room, leaning against the frame. She watched them for a moment, her eyes exuding warmth and fondness. Practically perfect people never permit sentiment to muddle their thinking, and yet, she could not help but become attached to these children. She remained resolved in her thinking, however. They were very close to no longer needing her, and she knew she would be gone shortly after the New Year. It pained her to go, as it always did, but she could see the Other Door in the reflection in the window and it beckoned to her; she knew that when it opened, she would take her leave for good. Pushing these thoughts aside, she checked herself in the mirror, wrapping the scarf around her neck, straightening her hat and smoothing the wrinkles in her red coat. Satisfied with her appearance, she stepped out of the window and into the air, where she rose gracefully up to the rooftops to meet Bert. She landed with exceptional poise, one foot before the other, and took his hand when he offered it to her. They stood, staring at the twinkling winter stars, both reflecting on the day and the revelations it had brought.

"No umbrella tonight?" Bert asked lightheartedly.

She smiled. "You of all people, Bert, know that I do not require an umbrella to fly."

He laughed and held her hand. "Yes, I know."

She looked deeply into his eyes and he gazed back at her. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but he saw through her mask, as he always did.

"I know that look," he said despondently. "You'll be leaving soon, won't you?"

"Yes, I will," she replied, looking down at their joined hands. The smallest touch sent her heart racing, and it frightened her. Mary loved him, she did, but she was afraid of this new power he held over her—the power to send her out of control; and staying in control, she knew, was the principle that governed her life.

"Will you be back soon?" he asked.

"I hope so. As always, I shall go wherever I am needed." She could hear the wishes embedded in his voice, and she did not want to let him down. The truth was, however, she didn't know when she'd return. She was extremely confused, and she knew she would need some time to think. She also knew, though, that this was not that time, and she needed to enjoy every last moment she had with the incredible man beside her. He sensed her apprehension and took her into his arms and held her in a close embrace, gazing adoringly into her eyes.

"I love you, Mary Poppins," he said.

"I love you, too, Bert."

He pressed his lips gingerly against hers, and she responded instantly. Though she feared the new feelings he created within her, she could not help but take pleasure in them. The soft caress of his hand on hers and his lips warmed her to the very core, and at that moment, she never wanted to let him go.

They kissed passionately beneath the bright third quarter moon. Both clung to the other almost desperately. Though their minds did not yet recognise it, their hearts knew that this would be the last time in a long time they would meet like this, simply as Mary Poppins and Herbert Alfred, on their haven of the London rooftops.


	3. Chapter 3

L'autunno

_1915 London_

It was a chilly autumn night in London; the wind danced across the sky and the stars were shining in the darkness. The stars were particularly bright this night, and rightly so. They were frivolous with excitement and anticipation, because they perceived a presence in the air that had been absent for quite some time. They watched intently as a well-known silhouette descended from the shadows.

Mary Poppins looked as she did the day she departed from the Banks household nearly five years ago: her fitted black coat remained the same, as did the red and white scarf draped elegantly over her shoulder, and the green parrot-headed umbrella clutched firmly in her right hand. She drifted slowly downward toward Cherry Tree Lane, glancing warmly at Number Seventeen, and alighted at the entrance to the park with a grace and ease that came from years of experience. Closing her umbrella, she walked swiftly through the gate and into the center of the park. There was a specific bench she was rather fond of beside a grove of large, old oak trees, and she was hoping beyond hope that he would, by some miraculous chance, remember and find her there. She would wait for him, just as she had forced him to wait for her.

***

Bert had been wandering the streets of London when he felt it; that familiar tugging sensation in the back of his mind that always alerted him to her arrival. He'd memorised the signs over the years, as well: how the wind would pick up ever so slightly, colours would appear brighter, and the very air would feel fresh and new. He was taken aback; she had been gone for close to five long years, why would she suddenly return now? He knew where she'd be; she always went to the same place whenever she arrived in London. He set off briskly toward the park, where within would be a little bench surrounded by oak trees and, he hoped beyond hope, the woman he had never forgotten.

***

Mary sat and placed her folded umbrella on the bench beside her. Staring blindly into the distance, she recalled the last time she was in London. Her stay with the Banks family had been wonderful, but no matter how comfortable she became with her charges, she always had to leave. Five years ago, however, she had left more than just the children behind. She remembered that day vividly; he'd taken her privately aside and kissed her gently before letting her go. "Don't stay away too long," he had said. But she did. She stayed away longer than she ever had before, and though she refused to admit it to herself, she knew the reason why. She had been running away from him. She had never been in love, so when her heart started doing somersaults whenever he came near, or when she felt an electric current rush between them at even the slightest touch, she became afraid. She remembered that glorious day at the Snow Ball a little over a month before she left. They had professed their undying devotion to one another that day, and yet she had still left. She had panicked, and she ran. She justified it to herself in many ways; love would interfere with nannying, it would strip her of her control, it would force her to open herself up, it would tie her down, prevent her from living her life as she chose and from helping other people live theirs. What she didn't realise was that true love never dies, and though she had tried to suppress and forget it completely, to shut it out from body and mind, the feeling had laid dormant, waiting to break free from its bonds. The wind once told her that she could blow out the candles, but she could never blow out the fire; and that when the flames caught, they would only continue to grow. She had not dwelt on the wind's prudent words, and instead fought harder against her trembling heart. Recently, however, she had begun to see the wisdom in the wind's message, and she finally understood: her heart did not belong to her anymore, and her happiness and life were now intertwined with those of another. She wondered if he could ever forgive her for what she had done; she began to doubt if his love for her still remained, and if he would come to find her at all. She just hoped he would remember that beautiful, wonderful, magical kiss… Mary shook herself out of her reverie and watched the red leaves fall unhurriedly to the ground. _He will come, _she reassured herself with an uneven breath. _He will come…_

_***_

Bert found her sitting on her favourite bench in the park looking positively flustered. He froze, not wanting to disturb her thoughts, and stood on the quiet path gazing at her in awe from afar. He thought perhaps that distance does make love stronger, because looking at her now, he thought she never looked more beautiful; her cheeks were slightly more flushed than usual from the cold, her lips shone a bright crimson, and her eyes held a wistful, faraway look as she glanced up at the scarlet leaves that fell from the trees around her. The day she left, he felt as though a piece of him had been whisked off with her, and for the past five years, he had merely existed, rather than lived. His world had been grey and lifeless, but now that she was back, the colour had already returned to his cheeks, the light to his eyes, and the swing to his step. He craved her presence, her touch, and her gentle kiss. He just needed to feel her warm hand in his, and perhaps, he thought, he would be whole again.

***

Mary suddenly felt him watching her, but she could not bring herself to raise her face to meet his gaze. She flushed a deeper red in shame at her weakness, and then determinedly gathered all the strength she could muster, and looked directly into Bert's eyes. Their eyes locked—icy blue meeting warm chocolate brown. They felt the old connection immediately, and both were overwhelmed by its fierce energy. She rose as he approached the bench, never taking her eyes off of him.

"Hello, Mary," he said softly.

"Bert, I'm so sorry," she stammered. "I was confused and lost and…" she paused. "I didn't know what I wanted."

He took a tentative step closer. "Do you know what you want now?" he whispered.

Mary looked at him, her eyes bright with years of repressed longing. "I think I do."

He slowly raised his hand to her face, but hesitated before touching her. He desperately searched her eyes for confirmation; for any sign that she truly wanted this as much as he did. He needed to know that their love was still there; that it burned as brightly as it did those five years ago. His eyes wandered from hers and he devoured her features as if to eternally commit each one to memory: the delicate arch of her brow, the slope of her nose, the way her lips curved upward in a ghost of a smile. Hand still raised, his fervent eyes found hers again as they stood in silence gazing into their infinite depths, almost daring the other to make the first move. Finally finding his courage, Bert placed his work-worn hand gently against Mary's cheek. Her eyes closed at the contact, and her breaths quickened when Bert began softly caressing her cheek with his thumb. She leaned into his caress and hesitantly placed her gloved hands on his chest. He moved his hand beneath her chin and, with a slight pressure of his fingers, guided her head upward so her now opened eyes were level with his. Small tears formed at the corner of his eye, and they slowly made their way down his face. Mary lifted one of her hands from his chest and delicately wiped away his tears, though her own were silently flowing down her cheeks. Bert took a shaky breath as he gazed at her with adoration and remembered sorrow.

"I thought I'd never see you again," he whispered, so softly that Mary had to strain her ears to hear him. She wanted to chase away any doubts he may have had. She wanted to let him know how much she loved him, but, despite how tenderly he was holding her, her heart was still quavering. "I thought I'd lost you."

Warmth radiated from her eyes as she looked at him. Her tears began anew as she quietly replied. "Never in eternity will you lose me."

Bert threw propriety aside and took Mary's face in his hands and kissed her with a fire she'd never known. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders tentatively at first, but more boldly as their kiss grew more passionate. His arms wound around her waist and brought her close to him. A searing heat coursed through their veins that neither had felt before; it was a torrent of desire that flooded their senses, blocking out every other presence in the world. When nature forced them to break the kiss, they gazed into one another's drying eyes, no longer attempting to shield the love and longing within them as they had for years beyond count.

"We wasted a lot of time, didn't we? Pining away for each other," Bert whispered, holding her tightly against his chest still, as if she would suddenly disappear and never return.

"I do believe we have," she sighed and paused for a moment. "It's ironic how an agent of change was so fearful of it," she said quietly, looking into his eyes. He returned her gaze and placed a hand on her cheek.

"You are human, Mary. All people are afraid of change. Even the one Great Exception."

Her lips curled into a brilliant smile and she wove her hand absentmindedly through Bert's tousled hair. She couldn't believe that he was forgiving her this easily. She had all but abandoned him, and yet here he was, holding her and kissing her as if nothing had ever happened.

The wind blew noiselessly around them, whirling about stray tendrils of her dark hair, and Mary sighed contentedly.

"The wind approves," she said with a slight laugh. In her mind she profusely thanked the wind for its guidance, and for sending her into Bert's waiting embrace. _I am in your debt, my friend, _she thought.

The wind rustled the vibrant leaves as if in answer, and Mary's smile grew. Its quiet whispers faded into the crisp night air as Mary brought her hands to Bert's face.

"What did it say?" he asked with a knowing smile.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," she replied, tracing the line of his jaw.

"Yes, you do," Bert said. "You always know." Her ministrations forgotten, she looked at him incredulously, but her eyes twinkled with merriment. The corner of her upper lip twitched when she could no longer hold back her smile, and he erupted in amusement. His cheerfulness was infectious, and soon they were laughing together with broad grins, and grasping the other's hand securely. He brought her free hand to his lips and placed light kisses to her fingertips, all the while looking into her eyes adoringly.

An abrupt change came over his countenance as he continued gazing at her; he had the sudden realisation that he didn't want her for just fleeting moments as before, but forever. She was his entire world; he needed her by his side always, and he was resolved to finally tell her. Mary, as keen as usual, noticed his change in demeanor. She looked at him, concern etched in her features.

"Bert, are you alright?" she inquired.

"Mary Poppins, I—" his voice trailed away and he silently cursed his unexpected cowardice.

"Yes, Bert?" she whispered. Mary realised they had come quite close to one another again. She could feel his uneven breaths on her cheek, and could hear his heart beating wildly within his chest. _Much like my own, _she mused. She felt a chill run down her spine, from the cold or her concealed excitement, she did not know. His eyes burned with intensity unlike any she had ever seen, and she gave his hands a reassuring squeeze.

He took a deep, steadying breath and pressed both of her hands to his heart. "Mary Poppins, we have known each other for a long time," he brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes and he allowed his hand to remain against her cheek. "And, despite that time, you are still a mystery to me."

"I'm what?" she asked, her defensiveness getting the better of her. "I am by no means a—"

"Let me finish," he interrupted and pressed a finger gently against her lips to quiet her. "You are a mystery, Mary. And every moment I spend with you, I learn something new, and add another piece to the beautiful puzzle." He looked down at their clasped hands and smiled. "I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of my life solving the mystery that is Mary Poppins. I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of my life… with you." His eyes found hers again and they shone with a dazzling radiance. "I love you, Mary. With all my heart and soul, I love you."

She'd barely comprehended what he had said when she found her lips against his once more. This kiss held none of the zealous fire from before; this was a kiss of promise, of vows unspoken, and of pure, unmistakable love. The emotion tore through her body like the wind in the trees and she knew that her feelings for him went beyond what she had previously believed; she was deeply and passionately in love with him, and she needed him to survive just as much as he needed her. The sensations she felt were more potent than any power she possessed, and she relished the feeling. She had found the other half of her spirit, and there was no way she would ever leave him again.

"Oh, Bert, I can't even begin to explain how much I love you," she whispered when they pulled apart.

"You never explain anything, Mary," he laughed. "Why should this be any different?" He gave her shoulder a playful nudge and her eyes glimmered with mirth in the silver moonlight. Much enjoying the lighter atmosphere, Bert wrapped his arm around Mary's waist and they walked leisurely in a comfortable silence through the starlit park. She rested her head against his shoulder and a contented smile lazily stretched across her face.

"What is it?" Bert asked warmly.

"It's just… for the first time in a long time… I am home."

The stars sparkled merrily in the dark, autumn sky. They bathed the blissful couple in their ethereal light so that they seemed to glow amongst the reddening trees. Smiling happily, Mary and Bert strode hand in hand out of the park and into the labyrinth of the London streets, hearts brimming with joy and love. The ever watchful stars sang and rejoiced, for a soul had been completed and had become, at long last, perfect.


	4. Chapter 4

L'estate

_1920 Scarborough, Yorkshire_

It was an abnormally beautiful summer day in Scarborough; a soft breeze was rustling the green trees, the sun was shining brightly, and there was not a cloud in the deep blue sky. Not to say Scarborough summers were anything but beautiful; however, this day was exceptionally so. Colours seemed more vivid and the sun shone with a strength unusual even to July at the beach. Bert smiled to himself. His lovely companion always had a knack for making things more beautiful, and this day was no exception. Mary Poppins and Bert had decided to spend her Day Out away from the hustle and bustle of the London streets and to spend it instead relaxing at Scarborough Beach on the shores of the North Sea. Getting there hadn't been a problem; Mary had taken care of that. They left the city behind in the blink of an eye and were met by and by with the salty scent of the ocean. The couple walked along the coast for a short time, enjoying the feel of sand between their toes, and before long they found a rather secluded spot on the beach. Mary had made quick work of setting it up for a leisurely afternoon for two; a few snaps of her fingers was all it took and soon they were seated on a blanket beneath a large, colourful umbrella.

She was leaning back casually against Bert's chest, one of his arms draped around her shoulders. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and silently appraised her appearance. She was wearing a canary yellow summer dress. It was sleeveless and had a V neckline; the fabric clung to her hips and flared out around her calves, and, as usual, she looked positively radiant. Bert knew that once they returned to the city, she would also return to being prim and proper once more, so he drank in this rare image of her. Mary sensed his gaze upon her and turned her head so she could look into his eyes.

"It's good to know you haven't changed a bit since we first met, Bert," she smiled.

"Oh?"

"You couldn't keep your eyes off me then, either," she clarified with a laugh. His cheerful laughter mixed with hers and he placed a light kiss on her forehead.

"I remember that day," he said as a blush crept across his face. "I must've looked like an idiot." Mary laughed and placed a hand against his cheek.

"Not at all. In fact, you were quite adorable; all shy and nervous."

"Well, a man doesn't meet someone like you every day, Mary," he said lovingly, taking her hand from his face and holding it in his free one. "I couldn't believe my eyes when you reached into my chalk picture." He paused and gazed tenderly into her eyes. "I kept it," he said. "That rose you gave me."

"You did? For fifteen years?" Her eyes sparkled with happiness in the afternoon sun.

"I have it with me always," he said. "Right here, in my sketchbook." He retrieved it from the small bag he had brought and flipped to a page near the front. On it was a beautiful drawing of Mary sitting upon a park bench reading, and a lovely pressed rose. Though not as vibrant as it once was, it still retained its deep red colour and its faint aroma filled the air around them. "Frankly I'm surprised it's lasted this long. Though, that's mostly due to you, right?"

She blushed ever so slightly and smiled. She brushed the petals gently with her thumb and index finger and they came alive at her touch. It looked as if fifteen years hadn't passed at all, and the rose had just been cut from the bush. Its former beauty restored, Bert positioned it delicately behind Mary's ear.

"Perfect," he said. Mary's smile grew wider and her eyes wandered to the sea. His brow furrowed in memory, and he spoke. "Mary, may I ask you something?"

"Yes, of course," she replied.

"When we met, you said that you'd seen me before, though I hadn't seen you."

"Oh…" Her voiced trailed away and she blushed in embarrassment. Bert smiled teasingly.

"So, did you watch me, Mary?" Her eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped defensively.

"Certainly not!" Bert looked at her with an incredulous smile and she lowered her head in defeat. "Alright, yes, I did. Sometimes I would see you on the rooftops with your sweep friends when I was returning to London for a new job or when leaving a post, and I would sit on a chimney and watch."

"How come I never saw you?"

"I can be seen by whomever I choose, Bert." She caught his gaze and gave him a quiet look. "Watching you… there was something different about you. Your presence held a certain spark I'd never felt before. You intrigued me." She smiled. "I think my soul may have recognised yours, though I could not yet feel it in my mind."

"So what was it that drew me to you? Was it my… charm? My dashing looks? My utter masculinity?" He laughed and directed his brown gaze to her serious blue one.

"No," she said quietly. "It was your heart."

His lips were on hers in an instant and they held one another in a tight embrace. She melted into his soft caress and marveled at how lucky she was that she had him by her side. They broke the kiss on a sigh, and she gazed again into his affectionate brown eyes.

"I think I loved you from the moment I set my eyes on you," she whispered.

He smiled playfully. "Would it be redundant if I said the same thing?"

She stared at him dangerously and he returned her look. They soon broke into peals of laughter and hugged one another close. Bert abruptly rose from the blanket, took her hand and hoisted her up to her feet.

"What are we doing?" she asked him with a smile.

"Going to play in the ocean," he said, a twinkle alight in his eye.

With one arm around her waist, he led her to the shoreline and they allowed their toes to be submerged in the cool surf. Bert wandered a little ways away into the sea till the water was up over his ankles and turned to face her. He had a mischievous glint in his eye, and Mary braced herself for the onslaught of water she sensed was forthcoming. She was correct in her thinking, and Bert swiped the sea with his hand and sent a spray of water at Mary. She retaliated and splashed him, and soon they were both laughing loudly and completely soaked from their water war. Bert sent a rather large splash at her, and she dodged it agilely, holding out the palm of her hand releasing a wave of energy that completely knocked him over and into the ocean. He sat in the water laughing with a stunned look as her joyful laughter joined his, and she walked over to help him up. She extended her hand for him to take, and when he did, he pulled her down with him and she fell into the sea, both in hysterics. She sat in his lap while the waves rolled around them, her damp hair falling out of its customary bun. He reached behind her head and gently took her hair down, letting it fall about her shoulders, taking the rose from behind her ear and holding it safely in his hand. He took a moment to gaze at her adoringly.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you with your hair down before," he said. "You look beautiful. Mind, of course, you always look beautiful, but this is different." She blushed profusely and gave him a quick kiss.

"Thank you, Bert. You look… very wet." He laughed cheerfully at this. "And, as always, very handsome."

"Why, thank you, Mary," he smiled and looked briefly up at the sky. "It's probably about teatime now, wouldn't you say so?"

"That I would," she replied happily.

"Well, if you want tea, you'll have to get off of me. Sorry, love," he said with a laugh. "Unless, of course, you don't want to," he grinned suggestively. She swiftly rose from the water and turned to face him with a mock scandalised look as he pushed himself up from the surf.

"Keep your naughty thoughts in check, Bert. We'll not be making fools of ourselves."

"Is it really that naughty if you're thinking the same thing? And besides," he said with a smirk, "there's nobody else here."

"And how, exactly, would you know what I'm thinking?"

"It's written all over your face. One doesn't need your unfair advantage to surmise people's thoughts," he smiled cheekily.

"I don't surmise, I know. And I never said I was fair," she said with a sly grin.

"Yes, yes, I know. I've heard this speech before. You're practically perfect," Bert said, his voice dripping with lighthearted sarcasm.

"In every way," she smiled and placed her hands on her hips so that her elbows formed perfect right angles.

"In every way? Well, that's debatable."

She turned her eyes to him with an offended look, but she couldn't contain her smile for long. It spread across her face and she kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"I love you, Bert."

"I love me, too."

Mary shook her head, small droplets of water flying from strands of her hair. "You're completely hopeless," she laughed.

"Well then, it's a good thing I have you to keep me grounded."

"Indeed it is," she smiled. She boldly moved closer to him, leaning her head in toward his. "And it's a good thing I have you to keep me soaring," she whispered against his lips.

"Who's the naughty one now, eh?" he said, pulling his lips tantalisingly away from hers.

She looked deep into his eyes and placed her bare hands against his cheeks, sending a surge of power through him, making him aware of the potency of her desires. "Bert, please don't force me to wait much longer. My patience is running thin."

At that he could deny her no more. He pressed his lips against hers passionately and they basked in the warmth of their love. Her arms snaked around his neck and his wrapped around her waist, never once breaking the kiss. Her eyes opened as his mouth left hers and he trailed hot kisses along her neck and down across her chest. She sighed in pleasure and placed a hand beneath his jaw, drawing his face to hers so she could kiss him again. If Bert hadn't been holding her, Mary was certain that she would have fallen back into the sea, her legs having been turned to jelly from the intense sensations that were afire in her heart. They kissed till their lungs were near collapsing from lack of air, and after pulling their lips apart she leaned against him, both trying to catch their breath. Bert placed a gentle kiss on her temple and she smiled into his shoulder.

"I love you, Mary," he said.

"I love you, too, Bert," she softly replied.

They remained in one another's arms for quite some time, content to listen to each other's heartbeats and deep breaths, and the peaceful sound of the waves crashing against them and the shore. They watched as a particularly large wave folded on itself and rolled over the sand, erasing the footprints they had left behind. They walked hand in hand out of the water and back to the beach, where a proper tea was waiting for them beneath the umbrella. Bert suddenly realised that his loose navy blue pants had dried, as had his white cotton shirt, along with Mary's yellow dress. He shook his head with a smile. She was always on top of everything, it seemed.

They took their former positions on the blanket, her now dry, shining hair still cascading down her back and over her shoulders in waves. Bert returned the rose to its spot in his sketchbook as she poured out for the both of them. Mary handed a cup to him, which he accepted appreciatively. There were, of course, her favourite raspberry-jam-cakes, and they each took one to start. They sipped their tea in comfortable silence, both sneaking glimpses at the other over their cups. Their eyes met and they savoured the connection, and Bert winked at her. She winked back, and they laughed heartily, taking another cake and making small talk.

"So, who are your charges now, Mary? I haven't seen you around in the park lately."

"They are the Wells girls. I'm sure you've seen them before. The oldest is Maria and a couple years younger is Eliza. They are… energetic children, to say the least," she said with a laugh.

"But not a problem, I'm sure. No child is too difficult for the beautiful," he placed a kiss on her cheek, "all-knowing," another on her other cheek, "and magical Mary Poppins," he finished with a soft kiss on her forehead. She smiled at him and took a sip of her tea.

"They're good children at heart," she said. "But they have some polishing up to do."

"Of course they do. Otherwise you wouldn't be there," he smiled.

"You are quite right," she said and bit delightfully into a cake.

Bert set down his tea and picked up his sketchbook, flipping through its pages looking at the pictures he'd drawn over the years. It was filled with drawings of Mary on their adventures and some of the many ideas he'd had for chalk paintings for the times when he was a screever. He kept this particular sketchbook with him always, yes, but for another reason in addition to what he told Mary earlier. Furtively making sure she wasn't looking, he turned to the very last page and memories came rushing back to him. On the page he'd drawn a spectacular diamond ring, and he had planned to present it to Mary when the time was right. He'd been saving up for a real engagement ring for a long while, and when he'd had enough money, he'd gone to the jewelers to pick out the perfect one. However, none seemed to hold the spark he was searching for, and it was then that the idea came to him. She always brought the best out of his art, and so he immediately returned home and drew the most brilliant ring for her that he could imagine, hoping that she'd be able to do as she often did and take it from the page.

His proposal had been all but forgotten, however. He knew her work was exceptionally important to her and he had no desire to force her to abandon it, nevertheless, despite that knowledge, he felt himself selfishly wanting more. He thought she'd understood when he confessed to her that October night five years ago that he could never be truly happy stealing moments with her; a day here, a few hours there. He wanted to create a new life for himself; a life that included her by his side, in a place they could call their own, and, should they so choose, with children of their own to care for and love together.

He glanced at her again and he momentarily stopped breathing. The late afternoon sunlight was shining at such an ideal angle that it caught in her eyes, and they looked as if there were thousands of tiny prisms within them reflecting the beams. Her skin practically glowed in the sun, and her long, dark hair shone with a radiance unlike he'd ever seen. At that moment, he'd have sworn that she was an immaculate goddess, untouchable by mere mortals such as him. But he had touched her, in ways that no other man ever had. He'd felt her bare skin against his hands and he'd tasted her sweet lips, and he knew that she was just as vulnerable and sensitive and in need of tender love and care as every other human on this earth. He made his decision right then; there was no better time than the present. He was going to propose to her here and now.

Bert silently flipped back to the page at the end of the book and wrote beneath the ring in elegant, flowing script the words "marry me." As quietly and neatly as he could, he tore out the page and hid it beside him. He took the last raspberry-jam-cake, for good luck, as they said, and watched her while she gazed with a small smile out to the West where the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon. He was so nervous that his breathing was coming in short gasps, and his heart was pounding so hard within his chest, he was sure she could hear it. Drawing in hand, he stood and took a few steps out away from the umbrella to collect himself. She sensed his palpable discomfort, and she turned to look at him with concerned eyes and joined him on the beach.

"Bert, are you ill?" she asked when she saw the state he was in, reaching the back of her hand to his cheek. He took a deep, calming breath and, his composure somewhat regained, he took her hand in his and gazed into her profound blue eyes.

"No, I'm fine," he assured her. "I never really considered how I would ask you this… I always imagined it would come to me when the right moment arrived."

"Bert, what are you talking about?" she said, her voice wavering slightly in hidden anticipation. He took another steadying breath and got down on one knee. She took a step backward and covered her mouth with her hands, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. He held out the picture he'd drawn of the ring to her.

"Mary Poppins, will you marry me?" he asked, his voice hopeful and light. By this point, joyous tears were streaming down her cheeks.

"Bert, I thought you'd never ask," she cried.

He practically jumped up, his face beaming ecstatically and his own blissful tears trailing down his cheeks. He handed the page to her, and she looked upon it through her tears admiringly. She did as he'd hoped she would and took the ring straight off the paper and held it in her hand.

"Oh, Bert, it's gorgeous!"

"It's even more beautiful than I imagined," he said truthfully. It sparkled fiercely in the bright orange of twilight, and he slipped the silver band delicately onto her finger. They cried happily in one another's arms, and he wiped away her tears with his thumbs. Her smile grew and he captured it with his lips, kissing her with a fervor that spoke of undying love and dreams for the future. She returned his kiss with as much zeal and wound her arms around his neck as his enclosed her waist and pulled her close. His eyes were shut tight, so he did not notice when the beach began disappearing around them, and the paths and neatly trimmed gardens of the park took its place. They separated from their kiss and Bert opened his eyes and saw that they were in London, his small bag on the ground beside them. He was back in his green and yellow checked shirt, brown patch vest and pants. She had returned to her long purple coat, the same one she had been wearing on the day he first saw her, and blue skirt; her hair had also returned to its usual bun, and her black hat with the daisies rested atop her head. Her eyes glimmered in the fading light of dusk, and she placed her still bare hands on his chest and kissed him again.

"I love you, Herbert Alfred. With all of my being," she whispered.

"And I love you, Mary Poppins," he kissed her tenderly on the cheek. "More than you will ever know."

"I think I may already know," she smiled mysteriously. He laughed and took her hand in his.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" he asked, stroking her hand with his thumb.

"Yes. I will make sure of it," she replied. Their eyes shone brilliantly in the now pale orange light and they kissed one last time for the evening. She glanced down at the ring glinting on her finger, its weight new, but not unwanted. An enormous, heart-stopping smile spread across her face and she looked at Bert. "Tomorrow, then," she nodded.

"Tomorrow," he echoed. "Goodnight, Mary."

"Goodnight, Bert," she whispered adoringly.

She turned on her heel and strode out of the park to the East back to the Wells home where she would get back to work, molding children and changing lives. However, it was her own life that was about to take the greatest turn, and she was all the happier because of it.

Bert watched her leave, slung his bag over his shoulder, and elatedly turned toward the West to walk back to his humble home in the heart of London. He had never felt as completely overflowing with joy as he did now. He truly felt as though he could fly, and he never knew; with her, he very well could. He whistled a lively tune as he walked, looking on as the sun set on his old life. His thoughts turned to the future and he anticipated the morning, when his new life with Mary Poppins would begin with the radiant light of dawn.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it. That's all from me for now. :)**

**I wanted the end to sort of resemble the beginning, since this end really is a new beginning. Also, earlier, I wanted to show a little bit of Mary's badass side, like what you see in the Miss Andrew segments in the books and musical, and it was also a little reminiscent of that bit in Step In Time in the movie when she puts out her palm and the sweeps all go into backflips... so, yeah. Plus, it gave her an opportunity to fall on top of him, and I couldn't pass that up. :P**

**In the winter chapter, props to anyone who knew that Zima and Talvi mean "winter" in Polish and Finnish, respectively. Bwahaha, I'm such a nerd.**

**Anyway, thanks again for reading. This was a great experience and I can't wait to write more!**

**- ACH**


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